


Cleveland

by DizzyDrea



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cleveland had never been on Kate's list of places to visit. But Cleveland was where Kate chose to make her stand. And Cleveland was where they began their life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleveland

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t seem to get that scene from Rise out of my head—the one where Kate waits in line at Castle's book signing, and afterwards, they fight-ish and then settle some things in the park. I thought maybe, with all the progress she's been making, that a breakthrough was in order. This, of course, presupposes that she isn't fighting her shrink every step of the way.
> 
> Originally posted at fanfiction.net.
> 
> Disclaimer: Castle is the property of ABC, ABC Studios, Beacon Productions, Andrew Marlowe and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Kate Beckett slipped into the back of the line, clutching her copy of Heat Rises to her chest. The line for the book signing stretched down the street and around the corner. She shook her head, a small smile teasing her lips. Most of the fans lined up for this signing were women, which amused her no end. Men might read the books, and they might even admit to reading them when pressed, but it was the women that came out in droves to meet the author and have their copy signed.

She glanced around nervously as more fans joined the line behind her, trying to remain as anonymous as possible. She'd pulled out a plain black pea coat, and wrapped a grey scarf around her neck. A bucket hat disguised her long, dark hair—pulled back into a low pony tail to keep the wind from whipping it around her. And, cliché as it was, she'd slipped on a pair of sunglasses—she'd decided to forgo the Jackie Kennedy Onassis oversized look for something a bit less conspicuous, but ones that would still hide her from prying eyes.

The Barnes & Noble she was inching towards was a plain brick structure, an ordinary building in an ordinary city in the heart of the rust belt. It was hardly the place she thought she'd be this morning, but then nothing about the last week had been ordinary.

The body had dropped on Tuesday, just after lunch, and they'd pretty much wrapped it all up by breakfast Sunday. But Castle hadn't been there for any of it, and instead of making it easier to solve the case—Gates had assumed that without the "dilettante writer" underfoot, they'd clear cases much faster—it had taken them a day longer because all of them had failed to notice the one thing that ended up being the most important clue. It was just the sort of detail that Castle would have picked up on, and Kate shook her head again at the feeling of ineptitude that had settled around them once they'd figured that out.

But as she moved closer to the front door, she was forced to admit—if only to herself—that that wasn't what had driven her to Cleveland, of all places. No, what had driven her to Cleveland was a conversation with her shrink after they'd closed the case.

She'd rushed to Burke's office, frustration threatening to break through her carefully cultivated control. She'd ranted about how Castle had made himself so indispensible to her team. About how she needed him, and she hated that it made her feel weak. About how, with him gone, she felt like there was a hole in her heart, a missing piece that she couldn't reach.

She'd stopped mid-rant, staring goggle-eyed as a slow smile crossed Burke's face. Then, she'd dropped into the chair and huffed out a sigh. She'd protected herself as best she could, because she didn't want to let anyone in. It was easier to keep people at arm's length, because when they left—and they always did, either by choice or by force—it was supposed to hurt less. And despite all her efforts, Castle had slipped past every one of her defenses and settled into her soul. He was now as integral to her continued existence as breathing.

It had been a revelation. And it didn't scare her like she'd thought it would. Losing Captain Montgomery had been hard, but she'd survived it because she'd finally come to accept that he chose to sacrifice himself to protect her. A love like that was rare and special, and she wouldn't sully it by hating him for leaving, or taking the choice out of her hands.

The pain that always accompanied thoughts of her former boss stabbed at her heart as she stepped inside, closer than ever to her final goal. She dragged the hat off her head and stuffed it into her jacket pocket along with her sunglasses, brushing her hair out of her face as she tried to encourage some warmth back into her hands. 

The pain of loss was just a dull ache these days, soothed by the support of friends. And the love of a good man. And she was finally willing to admit that this was what had driven her to Cleveland in November. 

He loved her, and God help her, she loved him. Nothing else mattered, and for the first time, that knowledge warmed her. Not that she had any idea of what to say, but she was here, and she hoped that would be enough.

"Oh my God, he's so handsome!" the woman in front of her exclaimed as she leaned out to try to catch a peek at the table where he sat. She turned around and Kate could practically see the stars in her eyes. "Have you ever met him? This is my first time, and I'm so nervous!"

Kate smiled. "I've been to one of his signings before," she said, careful with her words even though she knew this woman had no idea who she was. "He's actually pretty nice."

The woman turned back around as the line moved forward, and Kate shook her head, chuckling over the encounter. Only Richard Castle could inspire such fangirl squeeing from the masses. 

The line inched closer, each passing minute causing her stomach to flutter nervously. Her hands were shaking now, and she took a few deep breaths trying to calm her racing heart. All of which went unnoticed by the others in line. Their own nerves masked hers, and if the source was different, they'd never know.

Finally, she reached the table. Her eyes practically devoured him as he sat bent over the book he was working on. He looked the same as he always did: not a hair out of place, dark jacket and blue shirt bringing out the shine in his eyes. He was in his element, and for just a moment, she thought about running for the door. His voice stopped her cold.

"So, who shall I make this out to?"

He didn't look up, which drew a smirk from her. It struck her then how much like the last time she'd tracked him down this really was. A slow smile stole over her face. He was about to get one hell of a surprise.

"You can make it to Kate."

~o~

Richard Castle was going quietly insane. 

He'd always enjoyed these book signing tours for the opportunity they gave him to get out amongst his adoring fans. It was a never-ending stream of handshakes and smiles, pictures and autographs, and while they were exhausting, they were also exhilarating. 

But this? This was a three-ring circus. Between the fangirls gushing about him and asking whether or not he was actually sleeping with the "real" Nikki Heat—and wasn't that an awkward question—and his assistant—Duncan was good at his job; being British, his accent had smoothed the way on more than one occasion, but those sweet, dulcet tones belied a will of iron—running him ragged with appearances and signings, compounded by the bookstore manager asking why he hadn't thought to invite his muse—"Our readers would have loved the chance to meet her!"—he thought it wasn't outside the realm of possibility for him to be cooling his heels in a jail cell before nightfall. 

He could just see the headline now: Best-selling Author Kills Fan Over Muse. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration. It wasn't their fault, any of them, not really. They weren't to blame for the fact that he'd rather be back in New York City, solving murders with Kate and the guys than stuck in Cleveland on a gloomy November afternoon signing autographs and enduring what felt like the Spanish Inquisition. 

The fact that murder was more appealing than the adoration of his legion of fans was a new sensation. A bit bizarre, and somewhat out of the blue, but he thought he could get used to it, especially if it meant spending more time with Kate. 

He sighed as he finished signing the book, sliding it over to his assistant so he could put it back together. He tried to muster the enthusiasm to greet his next adoring fan, knowing he was falling just short but grateful beyond words that none of them really cared.

Without looking up, he greeted the next in line. "So, who shall I make this out to?"

"You can make it to Kate."

His head popped up at the familiar voice, and he was momentarily paralyzed by the sight before him. Kate stood there in jeans and a black pea coat, grey scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Her hair was pulled back, and even though she'd probably been inside for a while, her cheeks were still rosy from the cold outside. 

A huge grin broke out on his face and he jumped up, dashing around the table at record speed. 

"Kate!" he exclaimed, folding her into a hug. Her hands patted awkwardly at his back, but he didn't care. She was there, right there, as real as anything, and the relief that coursed through him would have been embarrassing if he'd stopped to think about it. He pulled back and took her in, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as his smile softened. "What are you doing here?"

Kate's eyes darted around, and his gaze followed hers, taking in the avid stares and whispers from the gathered crowd. He turned back to look at her and saw the nerves, the cute way she was nibbling on her lower lip.

"Can I—can we talk? she asked quietly. "Just for a minute?"

"Sure," he said. He ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her hand. "Anything you want."

He tugged, and she went willingly. He ignored the questions of the store manager and the scowl on his assistant's face. Right now, he couldn't care less if a meteorite was headed straight for the store. Kate was there!

They rounded a corner, just out of sight of the masses, and Castle pulled Kate to face him. His hand—which, at this point he thought had grown a mind of its own—reached out and caressed her cheek. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

Kate shook her head. "It's fine, Castle."

He frowned. "Then why are you here?"

"It's just—I needed to see you."

He wasn't any less confused, and to tell the truth, he was starting to get a little scared. This was how conversations about cancer started. Or the end of partnerships. Taking a breath to still his rampant imagination, something he thought he'd never have had to do before meeting the incomparable Kate Beckett, he pulled her into his embrace, her slight tremble causing his worry to ratchet up a notch.

She pulled away after just a moment, and he could see some of the Kate he knew coming to the fore. Still, he took her hands in his—to warm them up, he told himself—and waited patiently for her to speak.

"I came out here because I'm tired of waiting."

His heart melted just a little. "I know it's a pain, but this tour's almost over, and I asked my publisher to shorten the next one. I don't really have the heart to cancel it outright, but…"

His words died out when he saw her shaking her head, her lower lip once again caught between her teeth.

"What?"

"I keep saying I'll wait," she said, voice trembling ever so slightly. "I'll wait until I solve my mother's murder. But it's just an excuse, really. And what if we never find out who killed her?"

"We'll find him," Castle assured her. He had no doubt about that, and he would settle for no less. It was the least he could do for her.

"But what if we don't," she whispered. He opened his mouth to say it again, but she silenced him with a finger over his lips. "I know you want to believe that we will, but I'm tired of waiting for that to happen. I want to live now, not wait for some day that may never come."

He closed his mouth, surprise singing through his body. That so wasn't even on the list of things he'd thought Kate might say if she turned up in Cleveland. Not that he'd expected her to, but occasionally, in the lonely darkness of his hotel room, he had to wonder what would make her jump on a plane and fly out to meet him. Now that he had his answer, he had to admit that this was the last thing he'd expected.

"So," he said, trying for casual and failing miserably, "what do you want to do now?"

She shrugged, her eyes dancing away to look at everything and nothing; anywhere but right at him. It occurred to him in that moment, that for the first time in her life, she had no idea where to go from here. He freed one of his hands from hers and stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek.

"That's okay," he said, trying to comfort her.

"It's just—I love you, Castle," she said, finally meeting his eyes, "and I know you love me—"

"You know that?" he asked, surprise spiking through him. "How do you know that?"

"I remember," she said softly, dropping her eyes. "I've always been able to remember."

He froze in place, all of time coming to a screeching halt as that moment played in his mind. He'd said he loved her, knowing that she was going to die, and needing to say it just once. When she'd survived by some miracle, he'd hoped that they could start over, explore this thing that'd been developing between them for three years. But then she'd said she didn't remember, and his hope had dimmed. Patience had never been his strong suit—he was his mother's son, after all—but he'd vowed to wait Kate Beckett out, no matter how long that took.

Now? He didn't even know what to think. He thought maybe he should be angry, but really, that was a waste of time and energy. Whatever her reasons were, they were her reasons and he had no right to question them. Still, there were things he wanted to know.

"Why?"He asked the only question he could. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tears pooled in her eyes, and he squeezed the hand he was still holding. 

"It was too much," she said, her voice hitching. "Lockwood, Montgomery. Then me. It was all just too much."

"You could have said something," he told her gently. "I would have understood. I'd have waited."

She raised her eyes to his, warm brown drowning in an ocean of blue. "Are you still waiting?"

"Always, Kate," he said, stepping just a bit closer. "I love you, remember?"

She let out the breath she'd been holding, a small, sweet smile tipping her lips. Just then, they heard a throat clearing behind them.

"Yeah, Duncan?" Castle asked, turning his head slightly but otherwise not moving.

"The, ah, natives are getting restless," Duncan said quietly.

"Be there in a sec," Castle assured him. Turning his attention back to Kate, he gave a wan smile.

"Your fans await," she said. She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek before leaning in and brushing her lips over his.

"You'll stay?" he asked, needing the assurance that he hadn't imagined this. "I mean, not just today, but in Cleveland. You'll stay here, with me?"

Kate nodded. "I took a few days. Bought a one-way ticket. I'm yours for as long as you can stand me."

He wasn't sure if her words meant what he thought they did until he saw her nod her head, just a bit, but it was there. He broke out into huge grin and gathered her up, swinging her around right there in the bookstore, and who the hell cared who saw them.

"Okay, Castle," she said, laughing. "Put me down and go finish what you started."

"Right," he said. "We'll save the rest for later." He leaned in close, his lips just grazing her ear—a smug smile crossing his face when he felt her involuntary shiver—and whispered, "All of it."

Her expression went from startled to sultry at light speed, and he grinned at the thought that he'd done that.

He grabbed her hand, practically dragging her back to the sighing table with him. She tried to extract it, but he just held on tighter until they'd brought a chair and she was settled beside him. As the line progressed, word spread that the actual Nikki Heat was sitting with him, and the store manager was beaming as if it was his idea, but none of that mattered to him. He had Kate right where she belonged, and he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

~o~

After the bookstore—and after a couple more stand-up interviews for the local stations—they'd gone to dinner at a little bistro not far from Castle's hotel. They'd talked—really talked—without all the artifice and evasion, about everything that had happened and all that they might be facing when they returned to New York.

In truth, Kate was shocked that it had been this easy—if such could be said of a three year courtship dance that had run in fits and starts since they'd met. She knew they still had a long way to go, and that there were more secrets to be revealed—her own and his—but she had confidence that they'd get there eventually. They'd taken the largest, and by far the scariest step forward today. 

She'd never expected that, but then again, she'd never expected to get on a plane to Cleveland that morning, either.

"What are you thinking?" Castle asked quietly.

She smiled and snuggled into him under the covers. "How do you know I was thinking? Couldn't I be just basking in the post-coital bliss?"

"I suppose," he said, chuckling as he dropped a kiss into her messy locks. "But I know you too well by now. You're thinking something."

She pushed up on one elbow, running a hand through his chest hair as she looked into his eyes. "It all just seems too easy. I mean, it's been three years. How is it this easy when it took three years to get here?"

His hand caught hers and held it to his chest, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. "You're not easy, Kate. And I like you that way."

"Funny, Castle," she said, smiling. 

Her eyes fell to their hands, entwined on his chest, and she thought that maybe that was a good metaphor for who they were: two people whose lives had become inextricably entwined—by choice, not necessity—and it felt comfortable. Right. In a way that nothing else in her life had since the day she'd become a cop.

She settled back down beside him, insinuating her leg between his. She let the silence spin out, trying and failing to not overthink it all. She felt his arms pull her closer, and she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel—finally—of skin against skin. The sex had been good—better than good, but she didn't need to pump up his ego any more than it already was—but that wasn't the main attraction for her. Sex she could get, almost any time she needed to scratch that itch. What she'd really craved was the sense of intimacy that came with being this close to another person. The knowing and being known.

Still, she knew there were things in her past that they hadn't talked about. Things she worried about him learning.

"We both have secrets, Kate," he said into the silence, and she marveled again at how easily he could read her. "And when the time comes to talk about them, we'll just have to try to remember this feeling. That no matter what, we belong together."

"Yeah," she said, sighing. "I love you, Rick. You know that, right?"

He dropped another kiss into her curls. "Yeah. I know. I love you back."

She sighed again, tension finally releasing from her body. It wasn't perfect, but it was real, and she'd take that over perfect any day.

~Finis


End file.
